Carryn urged Lyssia and the twins to return to their seats and brought over a plate of food that no one ate. Lyssia took Diyana out of her cage again, drawing comfort from the bird's warm weight in her hand.

“We just have to show a little patience,” she told them, but Lyssia saw her eyeing the shadows cast by the boundary trees as the minutes flew by.

“Lyssia!”

Lyssia sat bolt upright from her slouched position at her father's call.

“Lyssia, come!”

Carryn stood and waited for Lyssia to tuck Diyana back into her cage before pulling her to her feet and placing Lyssia’s hand in the crook of her elbow. “We best all go.”

She took the lead, Lyssia walking with her but a step behind. Linea and Murel rushed to follow them, and Lyssia expected to feel their shoes on the back of her boots any moment. Thisska had taken perch on Linea's shoulder, wings extended halfway to keep balance as she held her upper body over Linea's head, vigilant eyes scanning the field. Azerian migrated toward Lyssa’s other side, walking close so Lyssia was security nestled between him and his mother, and Roakev took up the rear position as their adolescent guard.

Lyssia’s father was standing at attention outside his tent. He pulled Lyssia away from Carryn and Azerian without sparing a glance for either and pushed her in front of him as he advanced to the spot where he had first greeted Kongr Andev.

Andev and his family followed them. Thisska left Linea to rejoin Igone. The twins stood pressed up against one another between their mother and father; they threw worried glances at Lyssia every few seconds until she could manage to flash them a shaky smile. Ansev stood on their father's other side, and their youngest clung to Igone's skirts.

“This is foolhardy, Dizean,” Andev hissed as a trio of black-clad riders appeared at the top of the hill. They had a short discussion with the two Ilvanian lookouts who waited for them. One lookout peeled off and led the trio of newcomers toward Lyssia.

"Can we not listen to the man? It is the last day of Aon-Yute. Treaty day. He says he wants only to talk. And look, my man said he rode with guards. He's brought his sons, but he's left his men behind."

Andev was silent a moment, thinking over Dizean's words. "I do not like it. Dunival is not to be trusted!"

"When have you encountered men from Dunival before? We knew naught of each other before we started conversing this past year, and now we are allies. You know naught this man's true nature."

"I know enough. Traitors." Andev turned and spat over his shoulder as Lyssia's uncle had done.

Lyssia shrank back against her father. He didn't push her to stand tall again, which made her even more nervous.

Blighted Dunival. Traitors.

Lyssia knew what history they were alluding to. She had learned about Ilvana and Dunival's shared past at the same time she studied Skald Bjarke's treatise on Listoria. The Lay of Rilken spoke in depth of the day that the Kongr of Dunival betrayed the treaty and broke covenant with the other four Drakun kongdomren.

She had no hopes of ever memorizing the one hundred stanza song, no matter how determined her father was that she do so. Her eyes always started to jump and skip around as soon as they reached the first bloody description of a wound. But she knew this much.

Over a hundred years had passed since Dunival's Kongr had broken the Drakun treaty and attacked their allies, betraying Lyssia's great-great-grandfather and barring Dunival and Ilvana from the treaty. Over one hundred years...and still their betrayals had not been forgiven or forgotten.

"My Kongr!" The Ilvanian lookout approached and bowed from his saddle. He made no move to dismount, and his hand did not stray from the hilt of the bare blade that lay atop his lap. "Kongr Rijek of Dunival and his sons beg an audience with you. Will you grant them your protection and a place at your table?"

Lyssia's eyes fixed on the symbol carved into the metal pin that was fastened to one of the Dunival rider's cloaks. It looked like a swirling dust devil, or what she imagined one would look like. Who would choose a dust devil as a crest? Her eyes jumped up to meet the curious gaze of the freckled, pale-skinned boy who rode to the right before darting across to the poleaxe that hung from the man’s belt and returning to the Ilvanian man's sword.

Lyssia could feel her father clenching and unclenching his arm muscles. Out of the corner of her eye and half-hidden by the edge of her mask, she saw Andev's face turn a deep red. He shot daggers at her father, shouting his disapproval without uttering a word.

She pictured the discussion taking place behind her back. Andev could not speak for her father, but he must not wish to risk the chance of angering his new ally before the formal treaty had been signed.

Finally, he spoke, his words heavy and hesitant. "You are not welcome at my table or beneath my roof...at present. But I will converse with you. You have my word that no harm will befall you and yours so long as you do no harm to me or mine."

Rijek dismounted and approached cautiously. The Ilvanian rider pulled his horse to the side and eyed the two who remained mounted.

"Kongr Dizean, it is such an honor." Rijek clapped his hands together and lowered his head just enough to touch his forehead to the tips of his fingers. "And Drottine Lyssia. I am overjoyed to meet you at last. If I may present my sons."

He gestured to the two boys to dismount. The boy who had caught Lyssia's attention before was the first on the ground. He accepted his father's arm around his shoulders with a tight-lipped smile. His eyes locked onto Lyssia and they did not leave her even when her father pulled her to his side. Lyssia's eyes jumped to the ground, her hand moving on its own accord to smooth the side of her braid and the end that lay over her shoulder.

The second boy was younger, closer to her and Azerian's age, and seemed almost apologetic in the way he shuffled forward. His cloak hung far on one side like he was hiding something bulky beneath it. He kept a step apart and behind his father and brother, fading into their shadows in his dark cloak.

"My sons. Magnor, Kongre-Fyr of Dunival, and Tirne, Kongre-Slad."

Lyssia's eyes darted back to Tirne. Prince None, his father named him. His brother was Prince Heir, and he was...None. His position made sense to her now. It was a cruel title, but one he must have been used to because he did not flinch to hear it.

He caught her gaze and bowed courteously to her. Lyssia, caught still in the shock of hearing his title, frowned. His eyes turned cold, and he stared her down until she looked away. Between his icy glare and his brother's smoldering gaze, she felt the only safe place to look was to Rijek. He smiled at her, a normal, warm sort of smile that immediately soothed her ruffled nerves.

"Magnor, now." He patted his son's shoulder twice and then gave him a little nudge forward.

The Kongre-Fyr's gaze never wavered as he stepped forward. "Drottine, we thank you for welcoming us. I offer this small token as a hostess gift. I hope that it pleases you."

"You are not welcome here."

Lyssia felt it again. A moment where time stopped. Just one blink, and then everyone gathered to witness the Dunival party's arrival turned as one to stare at Andev. Lyssia did not need to see his face to understand the depth of his anger. It was present in the way he rolled the word here.

There was an order hidden behind his words, but it was not one he had the right to give. Igone clutched his arm, staring at him with a hard-clenched jaw.

"Andev…" Lyssia's father warned, stepping forward so that he stood two paces in front of the visiting Kongr and his family. He was no longer holding onto Lyssia's arm, but they were standing close, and she was forced to step closer to the watchful Dunival Kongre-Fyr or falter.

For one tense moment, Lyssia worried that Andev was going to challenge her father, but he reigned in his anger and bowed his head. His voice when he spoke was full of contempt, but it was clear who it was directed toward.

"I was not aware that you had invited snakes to sit at our table."

"Our table? Have I arrived too late to witness the momentous occasion of a treaty signing between the mighty mountain and the daffodil?" Rijek's surprise was too pointed to be genuine, and it lent a sharp sting to his words.

But between the space of one heartbeat to the next, Rijek's stern expression softened. "Peace, Andev. I have come today searching for the same thing as you."

"Do not address me so informally. I doubt very much that we have the same goal in mind, harbinger of shadows."

"I will strive not to address you until my heir and I have been formally invited to sit beside yours at the table of our host." He nodded to Dizean.

"Yes, and I am still waiting for a reason to extend such an invitation," Dizean said, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"You are lucky to have received an invitation to meet on the historical day of treaty with such a prosperous and...small kongdomr as Listoria."

Dizean stood taller as he answered. "It was my decision to contact Andev. We have been a lonely people. We shall be lonely no more."

"Surely Listoria is not the only visitor you expected today. Did Andev not bring his friends to meet you?"

"No..." The look Dizean threw toward Andev was all the evidence needed to prove that Rijek had hit a sore nerve.

"These things take time," Andev said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "You know that, Dizean. The other kongdomren will come later. Ilvana is not alone."

"No, you are not alone. Because Dunival understands."

Rijek patted his older son on the back. For the first time since setting foot on the ground, the Kongre-Fyr's eyes left Lyssia's. He glanced up at his father before reaching into his cloak and pulling out a cloth bag tied shut with bright red string.

He took two steps forward, hesitant like he was afraid of spooking her. Lyssia felt trapped like a butterfly caught beneath a jar, but she did not feel the urge to back away and maintain distance between them when his eyes pleaded with her to stay.

"My lady…" He held the bag out. It sat cradled in the divet of one of his palms. "A gift for you. A token of friendship."

Lyssia wrenched her gaze away from his and looked to her father. She had never wished harder that she could see his face and know without any doubt what he wanted her to do. But he did not offer even a nod or shake of the head as he gazed down at her, waiting with everyone else to see how she would respond.

Mirroring Magnor's slow, careful movements, Lyssia took one step forward away from her father - finally closing the gap between the two groups - and held her palm out beside his.

His smile caught her by surprise and took her breath away. He loosened the string that held the bag closed and turned it over her palm. The necklace hit her hand at the same time this thumb brushed hers, and the jolt that was sent up her arm forced her lungs to fill again.

She locked eyes on the necklace before her gasp could be construed as anything but surprise over the gift. The chain was thin and a pale silver that was very nearly white. Someone had twisted and tied it all along its length into numerous sweetheart knots, and in the center of the necklace hung an alabaster stone the same size and shape as the nail on her middle finger.

"What is it? A necklace? See!" Andev exclaimed. "I told you! He is a snake. It's a bridal gift."

Lyssia's father snatched the necklace from her grasp and held it up to inspect it. His fingers tugged at one of the sweetheart knots, and he turned on Rijek.

"What is the meaning of this?" He shook the necklace so hard, Lyssia feared the stone would fly off.

"Father, I don't...I don't think…" She glanced with wide eyes at Magnor, who had retreated to stand beside his father again. He shook his head and mouthed something she couldn't understand.

"It is not what you think it is," Andev said, speaking low so everyone had to stop talking to hear him. "It belongs to my wife. She suggested it would be the right gift to bring, because according to her family history, it is an old gift from an Ilvanian friend. It was made in Ilvana, with your resources and by your hands. The name of the crafter and gifter has been lost, but we are returning it to you. That is all."

Dizean lowered the necklace slowly back into Lyssia's waiting hand. She held it to her heart, protecting it against anyone else who might try to snatch it away.

"And for your nephew, your heir…"

Lyssia noted that Rijek slung an arm around his younger son's shoulder with as much affection as he had his older son. She scrambled to remember his name as his father pulled him forward, but it had flown from her mind when his brother smiled at her. His cloak fell open to reveal the bow that he had been hiding.

"...we also have a gift."

Rijek turned to scrutinize Azerian and Roakev, who stood behind Lyssia and her father. "Which nephew have you chosen?"

"My...nephew...?" Dizean hesitated, and Lyssia stared up at him with round eyes. No one had ever spoken to her of what role she was to play in the future, but she had had no reason to doubt that she would have an important role to play - some reason to use her hours spent studying - until now.

"Dizean, you didn't tell me you planned to overlook your daughter in this manner!" Andev clutched Murel's shoulder, who stood closer to him. She eyed his hand with a pained look.

"Well, I...I..I don't… "

"I didn't mean to cause trouble by my assumption. I only thought since you have a nephew of your bloodline that you might prefer to train him up to take your place. But I have nothing against a female heir," Rijek quickly added, silencing Andev's next statement. "Perhaps a gift for our young Listorian friends..."

Rijek nodded to his son, who stepped forward with the bow held sideways before him. Andev stopped him with a raised hand before he could take another step.

"My daughters, my heirs, will accept no gift from Dunival." He shifted Igone aside so that he could take both of the twins by the shoulder, holding them in place as if there was any possibility of them stepping forward on their own when they looked nervous enough to faint.

The boy turned to Lyssia, a challenge in his eyes.

"My daughter---" Dizean began, but Lyssia was already moving.

She slid forward to meet Rijek's second son in the empty space between their fathers. Her hand closed around the bow and her lips lifted slightly in a grim smile. His answering smile did not tug at her as this brother's had, but it encouraged her to keep the bow raised as he let go and she felt the gift's true weight. It was a sturdy hunting bow. One meant for a boy who would someday soon turn into a man, not a ten-year-old girl with no muscles to count. But she had claimed it.

"---is my heir, as she was always intended to be. She is Drottine-Fyr." Lyssia's father stumbled over the last word, his voice lifting in surprise as he saw Lyssia acting without him.

"Then the bow is yours. Lyssia, Drottine-Fyr of Ilvana, daughter of peace, may your strength and wisdom grow each day, and may your aim always remain true." Rijek’s blessing was spoken with a ring of finality. He bowed his head to her, and Magnor and his brother dropped into low bows, hands clasped behind their backs.

Lyssia stretched up on her toes, reveling in the feeling of winning her father’s respect and theirs.

“Rijek…” Lyssia’s father extended his hand slowly, but when Rijek reached for him, he did not hesitate to clasp the Dunival Kongr’s arm. “Let us speak of peace then.”

Rijek’s smile of triumph was shaken by Andev’s roar of disapproval.

“No! No! I forbid this! I will not share a negotiation table with Dunival.”

“You forbid another to sit at my table? Andev, be reasonable!” Dizean shifted so that he stood closer to Rijek, and it appeared that they stood together to confront the Listorian man.

Rijek smiled at Dizean's turned back. “You should have brought allies to join you if you were afraid of being outnumbered by those you have deemed outcasts, Andev. It is not my fault if you find threat in my words when I have not threatened you.”

“Andev, my love, we speak peace. We speak life." Igone leaned close to whisper in her husband’s ear. Lyssia’s eyes were fixed on him, so she saw the moment when his hands relaxed and fell from Linea and Murel’s shoulders. She saw when the fight drained out of his features and the way his whole body leaned in toward his wife, his feet turned toward her and her murmurs of peace.

Perhaps her father saw the same change on Andev’s face, because his stance relaxed as well and he leaned forward expectantly. But Rijek and his sons were not focused on Andev. Thisska had been lying still since their arrival, content to watch the confrontation with eyes that rarely blinked. When Igone leaned into Andev, the Drakun shifted, rising up on the Drottingr's shoulder and showing herself to be more than ornamentation.

Rijek drew his sons behind him, touched his fingertips together, and flicked his hands toward Igone and Thisska as if brushing evil out his window. “Worm!”

Lyssia had lent them a sympathetic smile when she saw their fear, but she recoiled at the hate in Kongr Rijek’s voice. Thisska hissed, and the hand Igone laid on her neck shook with anger.

It took Igone a long moment to answer. Lyssia would not have judged her if she had been unable to follow her own words of caution, but the Drottingr spoke with a surprisingly even tone.

“You can not call yourselves outcasts when you have made no move before today to seek us out. You call yourselves abandoned when you are the ones that abandoned the way of life that led your ancestors and ours to peace. If you are to move forward in your pursuits you must concede that Dunival is not a victim.”

“No, we are not. I am willing to make sure that my people are not dragged under again. I am willing to make the first offer toward peace. Worm or not...” Rijek visibly collected himself before extending his hand toward Igone and Andev. “...I would sit with you at the negotiation table.”

The Listorian couple glanced down at his hand and then at each other. Igone shook her head, the smallest of movements, and Andev’s hands tightened back into fists.

“You will not get that chance today. My family and I are leaving.”

“Andev, my friend, what about our celebration? We have not yet signed the treaty papers. You do not mean…"

"Not today, Dizean. I shall send my messenger to you when the time is right." Andev extended his arms and started herding his children back toward their carts. "But not today."

"Wait!" Lyssia cried.

Linea and Murel glanced back at her with forlorn faces and raised their hands in farewell. Tears streamed invisible down her cheeks and pooled at the edge of her shirt collar. Lyssia spared only a cautionary glance at her father before she swung the bow over her shoulder and took off running.

“Lyssia!"

He called after her, but she didn't slow or look back. She rushed to the tent where she had left Diyana. The Listorian and Ilvanian attendants had already started to pack in preparation for returning to the stead, but the tent was still standing. Lyssia dropped the bow on a pillow, crammed the necklace into her pocket, scooped up Diyana’s cage, and sprinted toward the Listorian carts. She heard frenzied footsteps chasing her, but whoever followed her did not try to overtake her.

“Drottine.” Igone pressed a hand to Thisska’s side and reached for Lyssia’s hand with the other. "Soon, we will call for you and your father to visit us, and you shall see Listoria. Someday soon." She squeezed Lyssia's hand once more, and then turned away and ushered her sons up the steps into the passenger cart.

Under the cover of Sundric's crying and Ansev's whining protest, Lyssia and the twins had a tearful goodbye. They clung to her neck, repeating over and over their promise to write her letters as soon as they arrived home.

"Yes. Send them with your father's missive, and take Diyana with you."

Murel pulled away first, rubbing her red eyes dry. "You don't owe us a gift. You are the host," she said, but her fingers wrapped around the cage’s handle when Lyssia held it out to her.

Linea shook her head against Lyssia's shoulder. "And she's your mother's. We can't take her."

"I'm not giving her to you as a gift. She's a friend that you can borrow for your journey home. I will come get her...someday soon. Thisska loves her, so you can’t say no."

Lyssia trailed off and all three girls straightened from their huddle and glanced over at their father, who was marching among his men and yelling at them to hurry and just throw everything in the second cart.

"...and then I will bring proper gifts for my hostesses." Lyssia curtsied, eliciting giggles from both twins. They pulled her close for another double hug, and as Lyssia leaned into their embrace, she saw Azerian standing off to the side watching them.

"I suppose it’s time to---"

"Girls…" Igone approached them and drew all three in for a hug. "We must say our last goodbye now."

Igone released them, and the twins fell into step beside her, Diyana’s cage held aloft between them.

“Thank you for Ilvana’s hospitality, Drottine. Until we meet again, may the land nourish you and keep you strong.”

“And may the stars always guide you home,” Lyssia added, remembering her father’s blessing from earlier. It would make a good line in the poem she planned to write for the twins. If she wrote it down fancifully enough, it might make a good present for the next time they met.

Igone inclined her head. Lyssia hurried to follow suit and looked up just in time to see Thisska dip her wings in a wide circle to the side. It looked too fanciful to be an accidental motion, and Lyssia lowered her gaze in acknowledgement of the Drakun’s farewell. Linea and Murel dipped into low curtsies, holding themselves formally stiff. Diyana’s cage hung between them. It brushed the ground, and she gave a cry of protest before Murel wrapped the cage up in her arms. Lyssia was afforded one last view of her brilliant yellow feathers

Lyssia wished to rush forward to give her one last stroke along her wing feathers. She wanted one last hug, one last squeeze of the hand, one last laugh. But she was bound to the spot with the understanding that this was meant to be a formal goodbye between dignitaries. She was not a girl saying goodbye to her new friends who were being torn from her arms. She was not.

She was a Drottine bidding goodbye to a Drottingr and her daughters, potential allies whom she had just met and whom would see again. She would.

Lyssia lifted her hand one last time as Linea and Murel climbed up to sit beside their mother on the wooden cart seat and the horses had turned the cart back toward the east, toward Listoria and the mountain passage. She felt a presence at her back but did not turn to look until the twins shifted to face the rising hill.

“Lyssia... “ Azerian murmured, placing a warm hand on her back.

Lyssia looked up at him with a blank gaze that took a long moment to solidify. “What?” she asked in a breathless voice. It felt like a hand was squeezing her throat shut, making it impossible to draw a full breath.

“Are you alright?”

Lyssia thought about lying. She thought about telling him the truth. But in the end, she couldn’t think of anything to say. His arm fell heavy against hers as he gripped it and turned her back toward the Kongr’s tent. He led her straight into her father’s waiting embrace.

Dizean gripped Lyssia hard as he turned her away from the tent. “Do not cry.”

“Father?”

“Do you know what I have done today by officially naming you my heir? I have painted a target on your back that was not there before. Few people will gaze at you now and not think, ‘What can she do for me?’ The answer is nothing and will be nothing if you do not start learning.”

Lyssia swallowed against the burning in her throat. “Learn what?”

He dropped his hold on both arms and forced her right arm to twist into his left, pinning her against his side. “Everything,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Start by learning to listen. Keep your head up, your mouth shut, and your ears open. Play your part well, and we may get through Rijek’s visit with him thinking that we trust him.”

Lyssia pulled against her father’s hold, stopping their slow march toward the tent where Kongr Rijek and his sons waited beside Lyssia’s uncle and Roakev. She blinked up at him in confusion, her tired mind trying to grasp the truth of his implications. “You don’t trust him?”

“Not by half.” Dizean followed her gaze, the skin around his eyes tightening them into thin lines. “Maybe by a quarter. Hmmm.” He snorted, a smile catching the corners of his lips at his own joke. “Now come on.” He reached for her arm again, his fingers drawing white lines onto her tanned skin. “Rijek! I apologize for the delay. Let us continue our discussion with full glasses of mead in our hands.”

“Sounds refreshing, my friend. Lead on.” Rijek slapped him on the back as he passed, but his eyes were fixed on Lyssia. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her.

Breathe. In-out-in.

Lyssia met and held Magnor’s questioning gaze as she took her seat beside her father. He smiled at her, but she did not respond in kind. Her eyes lowered to the map on the table, her eyes traveling across the length of Ilvana, across the gray waters to Dunival’s shore, and then back. Dunival - Blighted Dunival - and Ilvana - allies.

Could it be?